


Whole

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: The Brood AU [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Of all the trials and tribulations he’s been through, he never thought one of the obstacles between him and finally seeing his children after ten long years would be a protective, superpowered almost-nine year old.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU isn’t dead I swear! Also, this going to be a multi-parter. A situation like this can’t be handled in just one fic haha. (Also I have to think of how the rest of it is going to go, oops~) I feel like this isn’t good. Oh well, I’m sorry :/

Clark listened from the kitchen, sipping his coffee, as Jon talked to his mother.

“I won’t let him take him.” Jon swore as Lois helped him get dressed. Look nice for their guest. “Damian’s _my_ brother, he can’t take him.”

Lois just hummed.

“Or Tim, or Jason or Dick or-” A shift, and a female grunt. “Or Cassie! They’re _my_ family, not…not _his_!”

Clark sighed, and glanced out the window towards the drive.

No sign yet.

“Would he take Conner?!” Jon continued. “Because Mom, if he tries to, I’ll have to _fight_ him…!”

“Jon, it’s _alright_.” Lois laughed. “I’m going to need you to calm down, okay…?”

Clark tuned his youngest out, then, when his technical eldest came dancing down the stairs, Tim on his back, just like when they were younger. Jason came down next, Conner in the same position. Damian trailed after them, rolling his eyes.

And they all seemed upbeat enough. Not as outwardly nervous as he thought they might be. At least, not the older ones. Damian mimicked his own motion of looking hesitantly out the window. Sat in the chair closest to it, glancing out every few seconds.

A few minutes later, Lois walked Cassandra and Jon down the steps, both looking cleaned up and polite. Lois smiled when she noticed Clark watching her, and let the children wander to their siblings at the table before coming over to him.

“You ready for this, Smallville?” She whispered, taking the mug of coffee Clark offered her.

He glanced over at the full table, as Jon climbed onto Dick’s lap, and Cassandra pushed silently against Conner’s side. Sighed, and looked down at Lois with an already-exhausted smile.

“Not even close.”

She laughed, and took a sip of her coffee, leaning into his side.

“…I know you heard me reassuring Jon.” She murmured, glancing up at him. “And…I mean…you don’t think he _will_ , do you? Try to separate them?”

“I don’t know, Lo.” Clark admitted. “I mean, I would hope not? But…he would have every right…”

“Jon _will_ fight him.” Lois hummed. “You know he sometimes _says_ things like this, but…for Damian? And his brothers and sister? I think he honestly will. I think he will fight Bruce for them.” Another sip of coffee. “And Clark, you know if he touches my son I’m kicking his ass.”

Clark nodded. Sighed again.

“…Are you going to be okay?” Lois asked after a moment. “I mean…after all, you and Bruce…” She twisted her lips. “I know you still feel the same about him after all these years. Is that gonna…do you want me to handle everything today, so you don’t have to? Just so it’s not too hard for you, I mean. I know it’s already going to be hard enough for the kids…”

“…Maybe we should have waited longer.” Clark breathed nervously, in lieu of an answer. “Maybe we should have let Bruce get more acclimated. Let the kids take this in for a little while longe-”

“Too late for what-ifs.” Lois chirped as Damian suddenly sat up. Stared out the window for a moment more before leaping out of his chair and running out the front door. Lois put her coffee back down as Jon jumped from Dick’s lap, shoving his face against the window to look himself before racing after his brother, and followed after him. “He’s here.”

And Clark watched as the rest of his children poured loudly after. Dick herding them all like sheep towards the door, and following protectively after, only looking back at Clark once.

(And even he looked a little wary, in this moment.)

Clark inhaled and held the breath, following after his eldest, joining the gang on the porch.

And as a car slowly came to a stop in the driveway, already he could see a problem. Damian had run to the edge of the porch in his haste. Jon had taken his place on the top step, standing protectively in front of him, and incidentally Tim as well.

Already prepared to fight, and that is not what today needed.

Clark silently nudged Lois, who was closer. She nodded and leaned down, taking careful hold of Jon’s elbow.

“Honey, come over here.” She pulled gently. Jon didn’t budge, even as the car’s engine was shut off, and the front door opened. Slowly, Bruce emerged. “Jonathan…”

“No!” Jon screamed. Clark winced as Bruce’s head shot up. He heard Damian gasp. “Not until he promises!”

Lois frowned. “Jon, come on-”

_“Not until he promises he won’t take them away!”_

Clark felt a blush rise up his face, even as Dick snorted a laugh. Bruce, still scruffy and tired-looking, just blinked a few times, then smiled gently.

“…Jon, right?” Bruce asked quietly as he took a few hesitant steps forward. He glanced at Clark for confirmation, who nodded. “…Hi, Jon. Can I call you that? Or do you prefer your full name?”

And sweet little Jon steeled himself, leaned back and held his arm out in front of Damian.

“…Jon is fine.” He whispered as Bruce approached, bent slightly to get down to Jon’s level.

“Okay, that’s cool.” Bruce kept his smile as he held out his hand. Jon eyed it cautiously. “I’m Bruce. A…friend. Of your dad’s.”

Jon waited a moment, then took the offered greeting. Bruce’s shoulders seemed to relax as he shook the little boy’s hand.

And Clark had to hand it to him. He kept his attention fully on Jon. Never once glancing at Damian or any of the other kids standing on the porch. Clark couldn’t even imagine how difficult that must have been for him.

“And.” Bruce drawled softly as Jon dropped his hand. “I’m… _not_ here to take your brothers and sister away.”

Clark sensed a blush on Jon’s cheeks too, even as he shrunk a little bit into himself, and murmured, “…Promise?”

And Bruce, bless his soul, just chuckled. “Promise.”

Lois took the cue, tugging Jon again. This time Jon went willingly enough, staring only just a little sadly at Damian as he was pulled to the back of the pack, to stand with his mother and Conner off to the side.

Bruce kept his crouch in front of the stairs, now letting his eyes dart openly between the five remaining between himself and Clark.

None of the kids moved, except, of course, for Dick. Suavely shifted himself to the front of the group, jumping down the stairs and immediately wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck.

“Long time, no see.” Dick murmured as Bruce returned the embrace. His voice was a little shaky, the only thing belaying his emotions. “…Missed you.”

“God, I missed you too.” Bruce breathed, his own hidden emotions coming forth. After a moment, he released Dick, only to hold his face, eyes darting across his features to really take him in. “Look at you. Just… _look at you_.”

“I know, I made it to my twenties! Crazy, right?” Dick laughed in relief. He twisted out of Bruce’s hands, turned towards his siblings. “Want me to introduce you?”

And as Bruce looked back as his children, his eyes became misty, his smile lopsided and old.

“The rebel without a cause up there is little Jay.” Dick hummed. Jason just rolled his eyes, but waved sheepishly. “Then there’s Princess Cassie.” Dick glanced back. “Lois has been the best mom to her, by the way. Really helped her come out of her shell.”

Cassandra nodded vigorously, glancing towards Lois. With her hand, she silently said, ‘I love you’, which, of course, Lois returned immediately.

“Genius baby there is Timmy. Can you believe how _tall_ he’s gotten?” Dick asked, sounding like a proud father himself. Tim merely stood there, almost like a deer in headlights. Just let the heat rush up his face.

“He has.” Bruce answered even as Cassandra giggled, moving past Tim and down the stairs. Bruce immediately opened his arms for her, and she crashed into his chest. “He and Jason both have. You’ve all…gotten so _big_ …”

“And that leads me to the last, but most certainly _not_ the least, as Jonno has already shown you.” Dick smiled. “…Damian.”

And with one arm still tightly around his daughter, Bruce’s next breath was a trembling inhale.

After all, Damian was barely a toddler when Bruce had last seen him. He could barely speak. Barely say ‘dada.’

He was the one Bruce knew least about. Spent the least amount of time with. Damian had only been in his life for a few months before he thrust him into Clark’s arms, begging for him to protect him before disappearing into the night.

“…Hello.” Bruce whispered. “Hello, son.”

There was a moment. Just one, with absolutely nothing. No breathing, no speaking, no movement.

“…Father?”

Damian barely breathed it, barely let himself say the word. Bruce sniffed his tears back, and nodded quickly. Without warning, Damian lurched forward. Wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce’s waist, burying his face in Bruce’s chest.

“I missed you.” Damian’s muffled voice sounded. “I missed you _so much_. I thought about you every day. Made Dad- Made _Clark_ tell me about you every _day_ …!”

Bruce slowly wrapped his free arm around Damian’s back. Carefully, as if Damian was made of glass, and would break under his touch.

And he was…sad.

But not because Damian’s slip-up with Clark’s name, Clark knew that. Was probably happy Damian thought of Clark as his dad, had that stability in his life.

Rather – because at least with the others he’d had a few years. Witnessed at least part of their childhoods.

With Damian…he had nothing.

“Oh…don’t do _that_.” Jason suddenly quipped, stomping down the steps. Bruce sniffed and blinked in question. Suddenly Jason was in front of him, face stern, but still flustered. “Don’t you start _crying_ , old man.”

Bruce sniffed again and realized…he was. He was crying.

“I’m sorry.” He laughed, trying with futility to wipe at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just. You’re all _here_. You’re all so grown, and…”

He glanced up to the porch, one more time. Looked Clark dead in the eye. Smiled.

(A smile that was only for Clark. A smile Bruce hadn’t given since the day he ran from this house ten-odd years ago.)

“You’re all _safe_.” He whispered, as Tim finally stumbled down the steps himself. Slammed into Jason’s back, pushing him into Bruce’s space, and wrapping his arms as tight around them – and Cassandra and Damian – as he could. Dick, who had moved to stand behind Bruce, finished the embrace, holding all five of them at once.

Bruce just ducked his head into Jason’s hair. Kissed his second oldest’s temple.

“I missed you.” He admitted quietly. “I missed you all so much.”

“Us too.” Dick answered for everyone, then kicked gently at Bruce’s ankle and whispered, “Including the big guy hiding his tears behind his fake glasses on the porch.”

Bruce looked up again, watched as Jon pulled a dirty tissue from his pocket and handed it to his father. Leaned into Clark’s side as he took it.

And Clark caught Bruce staring, completely on accident. But let out a laugh, nonetheless, letting his face heat up in embarrassment as he covered it with his hand.

“Happy tears, Bruce.” He swore, waving Bruce away. A silent plea to not cut the time with his children short to focus on him. “These are happy tears, I promise.”

“…I missed you too, Clark. So much.” Bruce said quietly. In the corner of his eye, he saw Lois and Conner glance at each other knowingly. “And…thank you.”

“Happy to.” Clark nodded, squeezing Jon’s shoulder. “ _Thrilled_ to, really. But even more thrilled that you’re _back_.”

“…Yeah.” Bruce hummed, looking down first at Damian, who was staring wide-eyed up at him, then Cassandra, then Tim, and finally Jason, who had relented, and leaned his head childishly against Bruce’s shoulder. “Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his kids’ claim, Clark didn’t make all these photo albums just for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Equally as bad as the first part I guess. Conner is also in this album, I just didn’t mention any specific ones. Jon’s gonna take over this reunion at one point. And despite his ridiculousness, Bruce absolutely loves him already. The ending is probably a little too figurative, but it’s basically Clark thinking ‘oh man, I want to spend all this alone time with Bruce.’ but then also: ‘God I fucking love these kids so much, and I love these little moments of spending time with just them just as much as I want to spend time with Bruce.’

It was like herding sheep, getting everyone back inside. The kids could barely let go of Bruce, and Dick was already off, chatting Bruce’s ear off before he could properly climb the porch steps.

They piled into the living room, Lois motioning to the sofa, offering it to Bruce. Bruce nodded silently and took it. His children began to swarm around him, Cass and Tim on one side, Damian tight to the other. Jason was going to sit next to him, but Jon beat him to the spot, curling his legs up and leaning against Damian like a scared puppy. Jason just snorted, ruffled Jon’s hair, and sat on the arm of the couch next to him.

Lois took the other chair, Conner mimicking Jason’s position on its arm. Dick and Clark remained standing.

“Do you want any photo albums, Bruce?” Lois asked, trying to cover a laugh. “Clark _loves_ to document. Especially milestones.”

“I think there’s a whole album for each of us about losing our teeth.” Jason added quietly, smirking. Clark returned the grin.

“I just…wanted to make sure Bruce didn’t miss anything.” Clark mumbled sheepishly.

“For Jon and Conner too?” Dick teased.

“…Well, Batman does like to be informed.” Clark laughed. “…I do have some, if you want, though.”

“…Sure.” Bruce hummed. “I’d love to see some.”

Clark nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat, and silently moved up the stairs towards his bedroom. Heard Dick take over the conversation, asking Bruce about his ride here, what city he came from, if he’d seen Alfred yet.

So far, so good.

But still, ever the dad, he worried, even his small distance away. Were Bruce’s kids coping okay? Was this too much? Should he have reintroduced them one by one? And what about his own children? Conner isn’t feeling left out, is he? And Jon? Just…Jon?

As he reached under the bed for the box, he thought about maybe worst of all – his own heart. It was thrown back into the emotions of ten years ago. And he realized, more than his worry for the kids, more than his worry about how today would go, he was worried about the realization that had been smacking him in the face every second since he’d set eyes on Bruce getting out of that car.

  
He was still in love.

Hell, he was still head over heels. And now really wasn’t the time to be focusing on that, was it?

It needed to be about the kids. He needed to focus on the kids.

He sighed and shook his head, grabbing as many photo albums as he could carry. Made sure they were all about Bruce’s kids, though brought one down for Jon and Conner each, in case Bruce wanted to see them. Would look at them himself, if not.

He hadn’t just made these things for Bruce after all. He wanted to relive his own kids’ lives too.

Things were still calm when he went downstairs. Dick was still in charge of the conversation, still rattling on. Bruce was listening intently, matching soft smiles on both his and Lois’s faces. Jon was still as close to Damian as possible, but Jason had somehow convinced him to now lean back, against his knee. His eyes were darting between Dick and Bruce, and he was still clearly on edge, though the fact that Damian was letting him hold his hand seemed to be helping.

Dick just kept talking, even as they became aware of Clark’s return. Clark didn’t interrupt him, just carefully set the stack of books on the coffee table, handing Bruce the one on top – the one his mother Martha had made, when they all believed this custody agreement was temporary. Before Conner and Jon, for the most part.

The book was ragged and old-looking. Not because of Clark’s frequent looks through it, but because of the kids themselves. Damian looked at it a lot, when he was missing his father, or his older siblings as they went off into the real world. Jason looked at it when he was starting to feel like he didn’t belong. Cass liked to go through it with Jon, who found such a simple joy in seeing his family before he existed.

“Ho, boy.” Dick commented, as Bruce took the volume, staring almost nervously at the front cover – a picture of Clark sleeping on the floor surrounded by all five of Bruce’s kids, then babies and barely above his hip. “Good luck, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled and opened the front cover almost eagerly. Tim and Damian immediately leaned over his arms to look themselves.

Jason snorted in amusement.

The first page, and the few after, as Bruce learned, was the kids’ first day on the farm. Or rather, their first day with Grandma Martha. She was in each picture, holding Damian, wiping Jason’s face, carrying Cassandra on her back, holding Tim on her hip between her and her husband. Dozing with Dick on the sofa, and then dancing with him in front of the barn right below that.

The next page was groupings. Tim on Dick’s back. Jason holding Damian, the two with matching pouting faces. Cassandra and Damian both napping on Clark’s lap. Dick and the dog, Tim sitting on a cow, Dick climbing the barn rafters, Damian petting a horse from Grandpa Jonathan’s arms.

There was one of Dick holding Damian, squishing their noses together. But in the background, almost too blurry to be seen, was Jason. He was crying, hands balled into tight fists, held at the corner of his eyes. Clark was kneeling in front of him. Trying to calm him down, soothe him any way he could.

Bruce silently wondered why he was crying. If anyone would remember.

Though if he were honest with himself, he already knew.

“What was it like?” Bruce found himself asking. “Growing up here?”

“Quiet. Good. Nice.” Dick answered. Despite being asked to the room it was most likely aimed at him. “Different from Gotham for sure.”

“Clark actually made us _do stuff_.” Jason grumbled, but it was almost fond. “I spent the first year here asking why we couldn’t call Alfred to milk the cows.”

“You tried to teach Damian ‘Where’s Alfred?’ as one of his first sentences when you were mad at me.” Clark reminded, a nostalgic smile appearing on his face too. “Right behind ‘Clark is stupid.’”

“To be fair, you _were_ being stupid.” Jason countered, pointing thoughtfully at Clark. “So, I mean, it’s not like I was trying to teach the kid how to _lie_.”

“Still just as bad.” Clark laughed. “I’m glad Damian decided to find his life influencers elsewhere.”

“He didn’t, quite.” Dick added. “He’s totally the one who taught Damian how to swear.”

“Jon too, apparently.” Lois chimed in pointedly. Both Jason and Clark looked at her, and she shrugged. “He had a…slip-up, a few weeks ago. And immediately claimed ‘Jason says it all the time!’ as little brothers do.”

Jason glanced down at the boy leaning against him. Jon smiled nervously, then tried to hide against Damian, even as Jason wrapped his arms around him and began to mess up his hair once more.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Jon whined, pulling against Damian’s sleeve to save him. Damian ignored him, still looking into the photo album. “I didn’t want to lie!”

“No, you wanted to save your own little butt.” Jason cackled teasingly. He released Jon slightly, then looked back to Lois and Clark. “But see? Never taught either of them how to lie.”

“And we’re very proud.” Lois laughed. Clark smiled too, but kept his eyes on Bruce. Did it bother him, the easy relationships his kids had with not only him, but Lois? If it did, he didn’t give anything away, just quietly listening, quietly smiling, while turning pages in the book.

Damian suddenly lashed out, pointing at a picture. “That was when I started getting my teeth.” He explained.

“Oh yeah?” Bruce grinned instantly. Glanced at him, then pointed to a handwritten scribble beneath it. “And what’s this note down here about?”

“For which album the rest our dental milestones are in.” Tim smirked. Bruce looked at him now. “We’re serious, Bruce – Clark documented _everything_.”

“I’m glad.” Bruce laughed, then raised his gaze, absolute mirth in his eyes. “I just hope he was as thorough in his journalism.”

“Well, I still have a job, so I hope so.” Clark joked.

“Clark taught all of us to be that thorough, in everything we do.” Dick hummed. “Taught us even to be detectives just like you, Bruce.”

Bruce’s smile faded a little. “I…heard.” He muttered. Glanced up at his oldest. “…Nightwing, huh?”

“Can’t be Robin forever.” Dick countered. “And Clark isn’t the only hero dad who inspired us, B.”

“I’m Robin now.” Damian quipped.

“Will be, _eventually_.” Jason added quickly, even as Tim opened his mouth indignantly. “ _Timbo_ is now. And Conner is Superboy. You and Jon are still too young, squirt.”

Bruce glanced at Clark for clarification. “I benched Dick after you left them with me, for safety. But then when it was clear you weren’t coming back…well, you know as well as I do how hard it is to keep Dick in one place. And once they saw big brother doing it…”

“Not to mention when Conner came along with his own abilities.” Lois hummed. “But don’t worry, Bruce.  Robin _always_ went out with Superman.”

“Still does.” Clark said sternly. “And on the rare chances he doesn’t…I listen.”

“One of the downsides of having _Superman_ as a _dad_.” Tim sighed dramatically. “He can hear me anywhere in the world.”

“But we can’t complain too much.” Dick smiled. He suddenly glanced protectively up at Jason, and Jason instantly looked down at Damian and Jon, fussing with their shirts. “ _Some of us_ would be dead if it wasn’t for that.”

Bruce didn’t ask. Just made a mental note to ask Clark later, when they were alone. _If_ they were alone. Just another question to the list of a million.

Still, he could sense this taking a dark turn, so returned to his original query. “Isn’t Nightwing a Kryptonian legend, though?”

Dick snorted. “I’m not old enough to be Batman yet!”

“Damian went as Batman for Halloween a few years ago.” Cassandra added quietly.

“I was five! That’s more than a few years ago!” Damian argued haughtily. “Besides, Tim went as Batman for Halloween once too.”

“You all did.” Clark smiled. “At some point. Except maybe Dick. He just chaperoned your trick-or-treating and stole all your candy as payment.”

Bruce pointed to a page, a laugh bubbling out of his throat. “I can see that, here.”

“That’s a perk of being a big brother.” Dick grinned, waving it off. He glanced back at Bruce, who was turning another page in the book. “Whatcha got now, B?”

Bruce had a small smile on his face. Emotion in his face and a near-tears mist in his eyes.

“If I’m correct,” Bruce tilted his head. Damian and Tim looked up at him, even as he glanced over at Jon. “The birth of your youngest.”

Jon’s face exploded in a blush, even as Jason dragged him back against his leg and kissed his hair.

“Oh boy, what a day.” Lois chuckled, fanning herself in memory. “Dick snuck into the delivery room when he heard crying.”

“I see that, too.” Bruce laughed, pointing to another photo. “Hopefully he let the two of you hold Jon first.”

“Barely.” Clark snorted. “He also left the other kids in the waiting room alone. Damian ended up in the nursery screaming because thought the nurses stole his little brother, as he wasn’t there yet.”

“Oh my god.” Bruce kept laughing. The chuckles grew louder and louder, and Bruce eventually had to cover his face, the amused tears slowly starting to leak out. “I am…so sorry.”

“It was…something else.” Lois admitted fondly. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, though.”

And even when Bruce lowered his hand, Clark could see the tears still flowing. Still amused, still happy, but…quickly turning into something else. A sorrow of being left behind. A sorrow of missing out. A sorrow the kids definitely didn’t need to see, not right now.

Bruce always kept his emotions hidden. Was always pretty good at controlling them. But it was no surprise that his threshold here, today, might’ve been a little thin.  That he might’ve reached emotional exhaustion a little quicker than normal.

Clark silently tapped Lois’s shoulder, and waved a lowered hand at Dick. He got the memo.

“Bruce, are you staying the night? You’re going to need a room to stay in.” Dick asked, already pushing off against the wall he’d been leaning against. “Damian, Jon, Jay. With me. We gotta get the rooms set up.”

Damian groaned, and kicked his feet in a small tantrum as he reluctantly left his father’s side at the request of his brother. Jon followed sheepishly after.

“And I’m no housewife – I’m going to need help in the kitchen getting all the food out and set up. I’m sure you’re starving, Bruce.” Lois stood. “So the last three of you, with me.”

Conner scoffed in amusement as he disappeared into the kitchen first. Tim and Cassandra followed silently behind. Lois winked at Clark as she took up the rear.

Bruce kept looking at the book, flipping through the last few pages, smiling every so often, even though he continued to cry. When he reached the back cover, he sighed, staring at it as he ran his hand down it. “…Thanks, Clark.”

“I know how you are about emotions. I know how that’s not the first thing you want your kids to see.”

“I mean.” Bruce started, looking up. His eyes were still pouring those silent tears. “…For everything.”

Clark smiled, heart fluttering, just a little. “We can talk about all that later. For now, this is probably the only moment they’ll be separated so you might want to make it count.”

Bruce smiled, running his fingers along the edge of his eyes. “Yeah, I will. I just.” Another sigh. “Can you give me a minute?”

“Whatever you need. I’ll go help them in the kitchen.” Clark nodded, backing up a little. “And Lois and Dick understand, so, you know. If you need more time or whatever, just let them know, and they’ll help you out.”

“…You turned him into an outstanding young man.” Bruce smiled weakly, leaning forward to put the photo album on the table. “All of them, really.”

“No, _you_ did, Bruce.” Clark promised. “I just tried to clean up the rough edges.”

He left it at that, spinning away into the kitchen. He kept his eye on him, though, and his ear. Kept peeking into the living room when he felt he needed to, listened to his heartbeat when he didn’t. After he had cleared his face of tears, Bruce had picked up another photo album. And another, and after that – another.

And suddenly, Clark had a vision. He couldn’t wait until everything died down. Until the kids went to bed, or went out or just left them in peace. So he could go sit on the couch with Bruce, and go through those albums together. Talk about the things the kids wouldn’t want to, like why Dick looked at Jason when talking about almost dying, or what Bruce was actually doing during those ten years.

He couldn’t wait.

But then – Damian and Jon came stumbling down the stairs. Jon flopped onto the sofa on Bruce’s right, and Damian retook his perch on Bruce’s left. Bruce smiled, and answered all of the questions thrown his way, laughing when Jon admitted they snuck away from the older two. Let Damian take control of the book he was looking at, watching fondly as he flipped the pages to the ones he wanted.

Just a dad and two of his boys.

(In your dreams, Clark.)

He smiled as he turned back into the kitchen, and continued to help Cassandra and Conner set the table. Just a dad and two of his kids too.

(Because sometimes dreams _do_ come true, right?)

…Maybe he _could_ wait a little while longer after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now here they were. Finally having their moment alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a bit, Bruce and Clark take Damian back upstairs and end up settling down in Cassandra’s room. And no worries, there will be stories written about a few of the things Clark brought up from the past, eventually. Sorry this whole story wasn’t better. :/

It was hours later, when things finally calmed. The kids settled down, stopped bombarding Bruce with stories and tales and questions and cameras for pictures. Began to wander off – and not because they were bored of him, not by any means. They just needed their own space for a few minutes too.

But those few minutes out playing with the dogs, or going upstairs to put away the photo albums, turned into naps. Turned into going to bed for the night, all over the house.

Jason was on the sofa with Krypto. Tim and Conner were in Dick and Jason’s old room, now Conner’s, the movie they’d been watching still playing on Tim’s laptop, despite no audience. Cassandra and Lois had dozed off in Clark’s room, and Dick was snoring, trapped beneath Jon and Damian on Jon’s bed, after he’d brought the two in after finding them asleep in the barn.

And it finally, finally, _finally_ left Clark and Bruce with a moment together. _Alone_.

“…So.” Clark exhaled, leaning back against the counter after putting all the dirty dishes in the sink, glancing towards Bruce. He was staring out the window, watching the Kansas evening.

“So.” Bruce hummed in return. Waited a moment before turning around. “…Guess it’s our turn now, huh?”

“If you want it to be.” Clark said. “I know this is all still crazy, so I’m not going to make you do or talk about anything you don’t want to.”

Bruce nodded silently. Glanced awkwardly around the kitchen.

“…Was today good, though?” Clark asked almost nervously, twisting just enough to fiddle with the coffee machine. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling they might need it. “Was it nice, seeing your kids again?”

Bruce flashed a smile, soft and thoughtful, but mostly tired. “It was amazing, Clark. Thank you.”

Another minute of silence.

“They seem happy here. Grew up happy.” Bruce murmured. “Was it always as good as they made it seem today?”

Clark snorted. “No. They all had their stage of hating me. Being rebellious. Throwing tantrums, whatever.” Clark laughed, putting a filter in the machine. “…It’s why Lois was here so often. She offered to help, especially with Cassie. Always surrounded by boys, and with the past she had…I thought Lois would be a good mother figure for her. And for once, I was right.”

“I’m glad.” Bruce returned. “I’m glad they have each other. I’m glad you _all_ have Lois.”

Clark nodded. “…But it was because she was over so much for the kids. She was having a rough time at work, I had just found out about Conner, and was struggling with being a dad and…a moment of weakness, for the both of us. A _few_ moments of weakness.” He turned back to Bruce. “Jon showed up nine months later.”

And Clark couldn’t help but smile.

“And honestly? That ended up being the best thing to ever happen to any of us.” Clark admitted. “Jon helped get Damian to be more outgoing. Helped Jason and Dick learn some responsibility. Gave Conner and me a tie to Krypton, and a better bond with each other. Grounded me and Lois like nothing else.”

“Missing piece for the ultimate happy family?” Bruce tried. Clark couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic, or bitter or neither.

“I wouldn’t say that. We were happy before, and after. Never perfect, though.” And his self-control was starting to fray. He’d held his tongue long enough, he decided as he glanced up at Bruce through his lashes. “… _You_ still weren’t here, after all.”

“You were all better off.” Bruce said, staring at the coffee, not at Clark. “I promise.”

“We weren’t.” Clark countered, but didn’t try to drawl out the argument. Just turned to pour the finishing coffee. “You’ll see that soon enough.”

“Hm.” Bruce grunted, staring out into the living room. At Jason sleeping on the sofa. Jason, who was tall and broad, strong and rugged-looking – but all Bruce could see was that sad, sleepy little boy holding his sister’s hand as he all but shoved them into Clark’s home. “That picture…”

“What?” Clark asked, appearing at his side, holding out a steaming mug.

“There was a picture in one of the albums, from earlier.” Bruce murmured, blindly taking the mug. He sensed Clark look at Jason too. “Of Dick and Damian. But Jason was in the background. He was crying.”

Jason gave a light snore. Krypto cuddled closer into his side.

“I know it was a long time ago. Hell, Damian couldn’t have been older than two, but.” Bruce glanced at him. “Do you remember why?”

“Absolutely.” Clark said, much to Bruce’s surprise. Clark took a long sip of his drink, smacked his lips, and while still looking at Jason, simply hummed: “He missed you.”

“…Really?”

Clark nodded. “Those first few weeks were okay. They were good. Ma, Pa and me…we were still believing – still _hoping_ – that what you said was true. That you’d be back soon and everything would be fine. So, for the short term our main strategy was distraction. ” He explained monotonously. “But as time wore on, the distractions stopped working. The kids started looking for you, asking where you were and when you’d come home. Then it began to hit them that they might never see you again. That you were probably dead.”

He paused to take another drink.

“That photo, as cute as it was, was Dick distracting Damian. If you look at it again, you’ll see tears in his eyes, too. He’d waddled away during breakfast in search of his papa, and got hysterical when he couldn’t find you. But he was a toddler, so distracting him was easy. The others…not so much.” Clark sighed. “I think that morning was the first time Jason let himself realize that the likelihood of you coming back was getting slimmer every day. That there was a pretty good chance he’d never see his ‘real’ dad again, and it broke his heart.”

Bruce stared at the man flopped across the sofa. The mug was starting to burn his hand. He didn’t care.

“…Jason almost died when he was a teenager.” Clark whispered. “And I’ll tell you, Bruce, I still have nightmares about it all the goddamn time.”

Oh yeah. The kids had alluded to that earlier.

“…What happened?” Bruce breathed back, not even letting himself imagine it.

“Dick gave up being Robin, so Jason decided to take it. And like I said, the kids _always_ went out with me, never alone. But…one night Jason snuck out. He’d apparently tracked down his birth mother, and was corresponding with her. I didn’t know. Lois didn’t even know. I don’t think anyone did, really.” Clark exhaled. “But something happened, and she got wrapped up with the Joker.”

Bruce couldn’t stop his small gasp.

“Jason found out and went after her alone. It turned out to all be a trap. His mother and the Joker were in cahoots. It was all a ploy to capture him.” Clark swallowed the lump in his throat. “Joker was going to kill him. Beat him to within an inch of his life, and left him to die in a warehouse with a ticking bomb. I…barely got there in time. I still think about what would have happened if I didn’t.” He stopped, and Bruce heard the shaky breath he took. “He was in the Watchtower ICU for weeks. Dick took a leave of absence from his job to sit at his side. The kids would all call Diana or Barry or Arthur after school and _demand_ they come retrieve them. One time they stole my code to the boom tube and just…went up there themselves. Freaking took Jon with them, and he was still in _diapers_.”

And Bruce could see it, in his mind. Could hear the utter anguish still in Clark’s voice all these years later.

“I…have pictures of that, too. And all their recoveries, from all their injuries.” Clark admitted, almost guiltily. “But…those are for me. To remind me. They…Lois and the kids don’t know about those. Only Diana does. They’re down in the Fortress.”

“I’d like to see them. One day. Eventually.” Bruce said.

“No, you don’t.” Clark laughed in what sounded more like a broken sob. “You don’t, I. I’m so sorry, Bruce. I should have protected them better – protected _him_ better.”

“You did what you could, Clark. I threw you into a near impossible situation.” Bruce attempted, though it was awkward. He was still dealing with this… ‘having emotions’ thing. This ‘being home’ thing. “I don’t blame you.”

“You should.” Clark sighed bitterly, aimed at himself. “You’d have done a way better job raising and protecting them than I have.”

“Doubtful. I’m sure at least Dick would disagree with that. Probably all of them would. Even Damian, and he couldn’t talk.” Bruce grinned at his try at a joke. Took another sip of his coffee. “…Did they go by Kent?”

“Only at school, and in any sort of official capacities. To protect their identities and keep any potential public speculation to a minimum.” Clark hummed. “With their friends and all that they used whatever name they wanted. Kent, Wayne, their real ones – I let that be their choice. I never wanted to take their identities away from them.”

“And I’m sure they appreciate that.” Bruce nodded. Frowned, after a moment. “Was…Talia...ever a problem?”

“Not a problem, per se. She came and went a few times. Nothing I couldn’t handle. She never tried too hard to take Damian or Cassandra or anyone away.” Clark shrugged. “Despite their pasts and the trauma they endured with the Court of Owls that night, I’d like to think they all grew up relatively normally. They each have their quirks and hang-ups, and admittedly Damian probably has the most but – they were all just kids, and Lois and I did our best to treat and raise them as such.”

“…Good.” Bruce hummed. Sighed after a moment, and smiled. “Good. Thank you, Clark.”

“I’ve told you, Bruce, it’s my pleasure.” Clark returned the smile not aimed at him, though let it fade quickly. “But speaking of the Owls…”

Bruce let his own grin slip, and waited.

“Ten years.” Clark breathed. “Bruce, what the hell happened? What were you doing? Where _were_ you?”

“Everywhere no one wants to be.” Bruce murmured into his mug. “I moved around a lot, staying in the shadows. Hiding. Chasing. The Court of Owls was in every crevice of society, in every culture. Every region. So where they were, I was, and vice versa. Though, I guess collectively I spent the most time in Russia.”

“…Did you ever come back here? To the States?” Clark asked.

“No. For as much as I was chasing the Court, they were chasing me.” Bruce explained. “I thought as long as I stayed away from the United States – or Canada, or Mexico, or anywhere even remotely near North America – I could keep you and the kids safe.”

“…Makes sense.” Clark agreed. “…But.” And he hesitated, here. This could be too much, too soon. Too much emotion, too much truth. But they were alone. Likely one of the few moments they ever would be. And that self-control was continuing to shatter at a record pace. “…I looked for you. Your heartbeat. After a while, I mean, not right away. But I could never find it. You’re the only heartbeat I could never find, no matter how hard I tried.”

Bruce smiled again, worn and weary. “Found and modified some tech along the way. Dampens the sound of heartbeats and breathing, and makes you invisible to thermal cameras. Never thought it’d work on Kryptonians, too.”

“Well, it did.” Clark half-laughed. “And it _sucked_.”

“Sorry.” Bruce drawled, looking up at him. “Any way I can make it up to you?”

“Stick around?” Clark asked, a little too hopeful for even his own liking. “Stay in your kids’ lives? I mean…the Court’s taken care of, right?”

“Yes. They’ve been eradicated. And god forbid they ever come back – I’ll be prepared.” Bruce swore seriously. He paused, then. Eyes darting across Clark’s face. He looked older, though not by much. Not ten years worth, not like him. Still chiseled jaw, still florescent blue behind those stupid, useless, adorable glasses. “…Can I stay in yours this time too?”

Clark blinked, felt heat rushing up his face, before looking over at Bruce. His face was soft, and tired, but the smile was warm, and perfect – just like he remembered it. Just like he _loved_ it.

“…I had a picture of you too, you know.” Bruce admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. “With the picture of the kids. It was that day I made you come to the Wayne gala, and Alfred took our pictures in front of the manor like it was the damn prom, remember? It was the one he took of you, to test the camera.” Bruce closed his eyes in memory. “…I lost it, though, a few years back. Had your photo and the kids’ in my hand when I was ambushed. Dropped them in the fight. Could only grab one before they started shooting with machine guns. It happened too fast, and I…had to choose.”

“And you made the right one.” Clark said, almost incredulously. “Honestly, I’d have been a little mad if you’d have picked mine over your kids.”

Bruce laughed at that, and they both let the sound die off. Both glanced back to Jason, before Bruce turned back towards the kitchen, taking another long, thoughtful drink.

“Where do we stand, you and me?” Bruce whispered. “I mean…ten years. I didn’t expect you to wait for me or anything. I hope you went on some dates other than Lois.”

“I did.” Clark nodded, keeping his eyes on Jason. Did a quick check of the heartbeats upstairs. “Hard to move on when you’re raising your lover’s – or former lover’s, or dead lover’s or _whatever’s_ – kids though, you know.”

Bruce hummed.

“But even beyond that. Not many dates compared to you anyway.” Clark shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “Ten years is a long time to be celibate, too. So I doubt… _you_ …”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone for the first five years after I left here.” Bruce admitted blandly. “And it was to get information. Though, I guess like you and Lois there were…weak moments. Otherwise I was kind of busy.” He stopped again. Looked down into his coffee. “…I only slept with the people I did because they reminded me of you.”

“Oh?”

“And I always hated the aftermath, because that’s when I would remember that they, in fact, weren’t.” Bruce sighed. “And then it’d turn into a routine of self-hatred, because then I’d think of the kids, and I’d wonder what they were doing, and I shouldn’t be around fucking _sleeping with people_ when I should be finding a way to take down the Court so I could come home to them and…”

Silence.

“It sucked.” Bruce breathed. “The last ten years _sucked_ , Clark.”

Clark didn’t say anything. Just watched Jason for a moment more, before inhaling and setting his mug on the counter.

“It was lonely and stressful, and I missed you.” Bruce’s voice cracked as Clark turned towards him. He was still staring into his own drink. “I missed the kids. I thought about what they were doing every second of every day. What they looked like, if they had friends, or were happy. I knew they were safe. Ha – of _course_ they were safe, I left them with _Superman_.”

Clark stepped towards him. Just one step, that’s all it took in this tiny kitchen to close the distance between them. “Bruce…”

“I wondered if they thought about me. If I’d messed them up when I left them, like when my parents left me.” He was started to ramble, and his heart rate was starting to rise. “I wondered about the burden I’d left you with. If I’d wrecked your life just like I’d wrecked theirs…”

“Bruce.” Clark tried, a little more forcefully. It seemed to bring the other out of his mind, as suddenly his head shot up, and he spun around. Jumped, when he realized how close Clark had gotten. Clark just smiled, and gently did what he’d wanted to do since the second he’d gotten that phone call. The second he realized the other was still alive. Carefully lifted his hands and held Bruce’s face. “It’s _alright_.”

Bruce’s eyes were misty again, like earlier in the day; his breath was shaky, but that was all fine. That was all perfect. Because he could do it. Clark could _hold him_ , and a shiver went through his body when Bruce didn’t move out of the touch.

“Because you’re home.” Clark whispered, leaning in, tilting Bruce’s head up. “You’re _home_ now.”

Bruce met him halfway. Closed his eyes as he accepted the kiss, and softly lifted his hands to Clark’s waist. Didn’t squeeze or even cling. Just held, like Clark himself was the most fragile thing in the world.

“…You’re home now.” Clark repeated as he pulled back, shifted his hands to hug Bruce around his shoulders. “And everything’s okay again.” A tender peck to Bruce’s cheek as he breathed in his ear: “ _Everything_.”

Bruce let out a small, gasping sob. And now – now he did cling. Reached up and dug his nails into Clark’s back, hid his face in his chest. Clark just smiled, and leaned his head on Bruce’s, holding him as closely as he’d dreamed of for the last ten years for the moment.

And it was just a moment – because when you’re a father of seven, sometimes a moment is all you have. And after that moment, they both heard the quiet squeak of the third to top step, and Clark instantly tuned in to the heartbeat as Bruce shifted to look around his shoulder.

And his smile grew, just a little bit.

“Damian, you can come down.”

There was a second, and then Damian’s head appeared from beyond the wall hiding the top of the staircase. He looked nervous and guilty, and Clark laughed.

His son was so cute.

( _Bruce’s_ son was so cute.)

He reluctantly let go as Bruce shifted away, but he would never keep Bruce from his children, especially not now. Not today. So just turned and watched as Bruce walked silently past Jason, and put a foot on the bottom step.

“I just wanted to see if you were still here.” Damian whispered to him sheepishly. “Or if you’d left already.”

“Of course not.” Bruce chuckled softly, motioning for Damian to come down the stairs. Damian did so slowly, like he wasn’t completely sure Bruce was real. And maybe he wasn’t – he still had that lingering daze of sleep in his eyes. Maybe he thought this was all just a dream, and was preparing himself for the disappointment of waking up. Regardless, when he was close enough, Bruce scooped him up. Held him like he was still the toddler Bruce left here all those years ago. Let Damian wrap his legs around his torso, and then held the back of the child’s head, as he twisted slowly back and forth. “I’m not leaving you ever again, Damian.”

And literally – that probably wasn’t true. For one, there wasn’t much room in the old farmhouse. Bruce still had business in at least Gotham, and probably still over the world, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman, if he planned to continue that.

But metaphorically – he was in Damian’s life to stay. He was in all of their lives to stay, no matter what. He’d pick up the phone when they called, appear at events and life milestones, raise and guide them like a real father would. He could do that now.

But just for tonight, and maybe the next few days – No, Bruce wasn’t leaving.  The first step of this reunion was far from over. Not if Damian and his siblings had anything to say about it.

Not if Clark had anything to say about it.

Damian latched on, immediately wrapped his arms as tight as he could around Bruce’s neck, ducked his face against his shoulder. There was a shuddering breath, but not quite a cry. Bruce just smiled, rubbing gently at Damian’s spine.

And Clark couldn’t stop the stuttering of his heart. For his own happiness in this moment, for Bruce’s. But most of all – for his children.

For _Bruce’s_ children.

…For _their_ children.

(And he felt the heat consuming his face at the mere thought.)

Jason let out a snort on the couch, then a grunt as Krypto accidentally kicked him. Still asleep, though, and Clark smiled at him while Bruce tiptoed over, awkwardly grabbing at the blanket on the back of the sofa with the hand not holding Damian to cover the man and dog with. He shook his head and laughed as he moved over to assist him.

When Jason was covered and snuggled even deeper into the couch, Bruce remained, still rocking Damian as he looked down at Jason, eyes and face and being full of the utmost love and adoration.

And it was for his children, of course it was. But when Clark gently brushed his hand against Bruce’s elbow, Bruce immediately leaned into him, closing the already small distance between them.

He lifted his hand to hold Bruce’s shoulder, ran his thumb along Damian’s arm. Damian turned his head to look up at Clark with sleepy eyes, before closing them as he settled into Bruce’s chest. And just because Bruce was holding him didn’t mean Clark wasn’t going to continue his nightly routine of a goodnight kiss.

So he leaned down and pecked Damian’s cheek. Then, without thinking, Clark leaned up, and pressed a longer kiss to Bruce’s temple, squeezing his shoulder and pulling him just the slightest bit closer.

He didn’t go far when he pulled away, merely pressed their heads together, as he closed his eyes. Bruce instantly relaxed into him and immediately, it felt like old times – holding babies and all. It felt like ten years ago, before they were torn apart and left to think the worst, left to be without the other.

And it didn’t seem right to say something like ‘I love you’ in this second. That was still a whole new can of worms they needed to deal with down the road. But not tonight. Tonight was for the kids. Despite their quick kiss, jumbled admittances and the fact that almost everyone was asleep already – tonight was not about just the two of them.

So he didn’t. Instead, he said something else. Said something that encased how much he missed Bruce, and how ecstatic he was that he had returned. Said something that included the children, himself, and frankly, even Lois.  Held Bruce as close as he dared and said the simplest – yet most important – sentiment he could think of right now, even if it was absolutely and incredibly repetitive at this point.

“Welcome _home_ , Bruce.”

Bruce smiled, but didn’t respond. Just continued to hold and watch his long lost sons from the comfort of Clark’s arms.


End file.
